


Ride or Die

by Tux



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21765982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tux/pseuds/Tux
Summary: A month had passed since the night of the riots and things finally appeared to be winding down once more in the town with pep. Everything was the same, and nothing was the same. Riverdale was still, at its heart, a haunted town where it seemed things could never truly stay settled for long. What should have been a night of fun quickly took a turn for the worst…
Relationships: Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz
Comments: 9
Kudos: 62





	1. Only the Good Die Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This story starts a month after the end of Season 2. I haven't seen any of Season 3 or 4. Other than what the promos showed and what was said at Comic-Con, I don't know anything about S3 or S4. That being said, this story is going to go it's own way cause I have no idea what goes on after the events of Season 2. Just as a heads up, updates for this are going to be sporadic at best, I have a full-time job and am in college so I very rarely have time to write. On the flip-side, I have the second chapter almost finished and have other bits and pieces written as well. Sorry for the long intro note! Let me know what you think of this story, I hope you enjoy reading!

* * *

"If the girls and I can throw down with the Ghoulies right alongside the boys, tell me why our initiation can't be the same?"

Jughead sighed, sounding exasperated. "Toni—"

"How did you like seeing your girlfriend up there, dancing on that stage in front of a bunch of dirty old men, and not to mention your own _dad_?" Jughead's jaw clenched and his grip on the beer bottle in his hand tightened. It was a low blow—Toni knew it was—but she didn't really care all that much. She was making damn good points, and they both knew it. 

"Fine," he conceded, shooting her one of his trade-mark scowls and taking a swig of beer. "We'll put it up to a vote at next month’s meeting." 

"That's all I'm asking for, Jonesy," Toni smiled, clinking her bottle to his before taking a long drink. 

"I hate it when you call me that!" Jughead whined and Toni heard laughter from the other end of the bar. 

"Maybe don't announce it so loud and people will lay off calling you that, _Jonesy_ ,” Sweet Pea said, dropping a wink as he came to stand beside Toni.

“Yeah,” Fangs agreed, throwing his arm over Jughead’s shoulder and giving him a playful shake. “Lighten up a little, _Jonesy_. It’s a party!”

It was, in fact, a fifties themed night at the new speakeasy under Pop’s.

Even though a month had gone by, things were still tense after the night of the riots. With Hiram Lodge out of town on some mysterious business trip and the Ghoulies MIA, life was slowly but surely returning to normal, but things were different now. Everyone in town seemed to know Riverdale had changed—even if they did not understand exactly _what_ had changed—they _felt_ it, the same way animals seem to feel a storm coming on.

Toni was simply happy that the Serpents still had a place to call home, and that she still had a job, all courtesy of Veronica Lodge—now sole owner of Pop's and the newly founded speakeasy underneath. FP Jones, who ran the day-to-day operations of the bar, had told Toni to take the night off and have a good time with her friends; the drunks and the mediocre tips would always be there tomorrow. 

The 1950’s night appeared to be a huge hit. People were decked out in greaser get-ups or poodle skirts, dancing away while Elvis sang from the jukebox about blue suede shoes.

Her group of knuckle-heads had even dressed for the occasion. They were all clad in white shirts, blue jeans that were cuffed over their motorcycle boots, and—of course—their Serpent jackets. Fangs had his hair slicked back, Pompadour style with his jacket collar popped, and Jughead looked pretty similar (considering Fangs had helped him get ready). Toni thought Sweet Pea looked the same as he did just about every other day, but she kept that particular thought to herself with a smirk.

As Elvis turned the juke over to Paul Anka, Toni saw Cheryl descending the stairs—looking absolutely stunning in a short-sleeve, white collared blouse with a red neck-scarf and a red circle skirt—and lit up at the sight of her.

"Well if you boys don't mind, I'm gonna go dance with my girl," Toni said, grinning like a fool as she all but flew from the barstool and hurried across the room. 

Sweet Pea plopped down into the newly vacated seat with a laugh. "Fucking whipped," he chuckled, taking a long pull of his beer. 

"Why do you say that?" Jughead wondered, watching as Toni weaved her way through the crowded bar.

"Tiny hates dancing," Fangs piped up from beside him. He stood leaned back against the bar, elbows propped up comfortably on the bar top, people watching and occasionally sipping at his drink. 

"Yeah, but Red sure doesn't. So, I refer you to my original statement: fucking whipped." 

"What do you think of Cheryl so far, Sweet Pea?" Jughead casually asked, watching his face closely. 

He shrugged and took another swig of beer. The snake tattooed on his neck seemed to wriggle a bit as he swallowed. "Don't know yet, little too early to call it one way or another. Guess we'll just have to wait and see." 

"You've always struck me as a man of action, not really the wait and see type."

"Usually I'm the kind of act first, ask questions never type, but Toni's not like that."

Jughead asked him what he meant by that. 

"T's got a level head on her shoulders. If she really likes Cheryl—and I'm pretty damn sure she does—that's a good enough starting point for me." He stood, looking Jughead in the eye while he lit a cigarette. "Give her a chance is what I'm saying, Jones."

Jughead scoffed at Sweet Pea's response, trying to feign offense. He was surprised, and honestly a little embarrassed, that the other boy had seen through him so easily. "That's not what I was getting at—"

"Give her a chance!" SP called over his shoulder. A thin trail smoke followed him as he made for the door. "She might just surprise you!" 

Sweet Pea didn't bother to look back at Jughead when he slipped out the door, but the two-headed Serpent on his jacket—its eyes forever unblinking—seemed to stare knowingly at him. 

He watched the door slam shut behind his friend then let his eyes rove over the packed bar. He caught sight of Toni talking with Cheryl. Both girls wore matching smiles, and, in spite of himself, Jughead found himself smiling a little too. 

Toni snapped her fingers in time with the beat and sang along with Paul Anka: “ _Put your lips next to mine, dear…Won't you kiss me once, baby?...Just a kiss goodnight, maybe, you and I will fall in love…_ ”

"Are you drunk?" Cheryl laughed, titling her head while she eyed her curiously.

"Not even close, baby-doll," Toni grinned, took hold of Cheryl’s hands, and pulled her close. "Come dance with me."

Cheryl rolled her eyes playfully but allowed Toni to pull her onto the dance floor by the hand. "Now I _really_ think you are drunk."

"I don't have to be drunk to wanna dance with my girl!" Toni encouraged Cheryl to do a twirl before tugging her body flush with hers. Their height difference made the twirl a little awkward, but it left Cheryl smiling all the same.

Just as _“Put Your Head On My Shoulder”_ gave way to _“Can’t Help Falling in Love,”_ Toni—now seemingly satisfied with their place on the dance floor—took the lead, letting her hands rest on slender hips.

While they slowly swayed to the song, Toni drank in the sight before her. What captivated her most was the smile gracing those beautiful red lips. Cheryl's eyes were closed, and that smile was threatening to break into a full-blown grin. Cheryl looked so relaxed and happy.

Toni loved seeing her girl this way.

She closed the already small gap between them and kissed her deeply. With hands still firmly resting on slender hips, she pulled Cheryl even closer and smirked into the kiss when she heard a soft gasp.

After a moment, Toni pulled back slowly, lingering just long enough to place a quick kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.

"What was that for?" Cheryl breathed out, resting their foreheads together.

"I can't _not_ kiss you when you smile like that, Bombshell…"

As they danced, Elvis sang: “ _Like a river flows surely to the sea…Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be…Take my hand, take my whole life too…For I can't help falling in love with you…_ ”

Toni was about to steal another kiss when a young Serpent came flying down the stairs so fast, he nearly tumbled down them instead. Reggie Mantle caught him by the arm just before the boy lost his footing.

“What’s your deal, dude?” Reggie asked, helping the kid steady himself.

“Th-the Ghoulies just showed uh-up outside!”

The music shut off abruptly and FP Jones’s voice boomed in the now-silent room. “Serpents, outside, _now!_ Everyone else, remain calm, the sheriff will be called and—”

Not waiting for FP to finish his impromptu speech and seeming to move on auto- pilot, Toni climbed up the stairs two at a time and threw open the door that lead into the diner. Billy Joel’s “ _Only the Good Die Young”_ was playing from the jukebox, Pop Tate was on the phone with the sheriff, and the diner’s few patrons were nervously huddled up near one end of the counter.

It wasn’t until she heard the familiar _click-clack_ of high heels on linoleum that she realized Cheryl had followed her up. Toni quickly pulled her off to the side near one of the booths to make room for the other Serpents that were rushing out past them.

“Cheryl, stay here.”

“Absolutely not! You are not—”

“Fangs!” Toni snagged the sleeve of his jacket and yanked him into their little huddle. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re still recovering from that gut shot!” Fangs opened his mouth to protest but Toni pressed on: “You two keep everyone inside, try to stop people from going into a full-blown panic. FP already has his hands full downstairs as it is.”

“You are not going out there!” Cheryl protested, grabbing hold of Toni’s hand.

“Cher, I’ve done this before, you haven’t. It would be different if you had your bow, but for me to be able to do what I’ve gotta do, I have to— _need to_ —know that you are safe.” Toni squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Topaz, let’s go! Sweet Pea needs some back up out there!” Byrdie—an older Serpent member—called before shouldering the front door open. Toni looked pleadingly at Fangs.

Fangs nodded quickly. “I’ve got her, get out there.”

Toni rushed out into the parking lot, the bell hanging over the front door chiming ( _ask not for whom the bell tolls_ ) overhead as she disappeared into a rapidly forming crowd. She saw a Ghoulie running toward SP with a switch blade drawn.

"Sweet Pea, behind you!" she screamed, but he was too caught up in socking another Ghoulie square in the face. 

Toni was off like a bullet. She barreled toward the punk brandishing the knife, ducked her head down, and slammed into him in a dead sprint. The momentum of the impact sent them both to the ground in a heap. Toni rolled quickly to her right, struggling to regain her footing.

She snapped to her feet just as the Ghoulie rounded on her. His fist connected with her left cheekbone, and that eye filled with water. Toni immediately shoved the boy away, but he came right back at her.

Toni swung with a hard left, her fist connecting solidly with his jaw and making him yell with surprised hurt as he stumbled backward a few steps and fell to a knee. Before he even got his feet again, the Ghoulie lunged at her.

The pain of freshly split knuckles was instantly forgotten as a hefty blow connected solidly with her upper abdomen, forcing the breath from her lungs in a great _whoosh_.

She felt it all at once—a sharp, crystal clear burst of pain—as something wetly hot began to spill from her chest down toward her stomach. The Ghoulie’s eyes widened and he backed away while the reality of what had just happened settled over both of them. The boy took one more step backward before turning and darting away into the mob of people surrounding them. Toni looked down and felt her knees buckle under her.

She knew better than to look, but she had done it anyway.

The studded handle of a switch blade glimmered under yellow streetlights, almost like it was winking at her from where it was buried in her chest just below the rib cage. She let out a shaky laugh, her knees slamming down onto the rough pavement as they finally gave out. Her hand shook badly as she touched just under the handle of the blade and felt where warm, dark crimson was spreading across her white shirt like a blooming flower. 

"Toni!"

She heard someone call her name, but it sounded far away. The fight was still raging on, but it seemed that everything was moving very slowly compared to the blood seeping quickly through her T-shirt.

Suddenly, Sweet Pea was in her face, his eyes wide with panic and mouth agape.

“Call the cops!" he yelled. His loud call for the police had garnered most everyone's attention and the crowd was now breaking apart rapidly. He was kneeling in front her, his hands hovering just above her arms like she'd break if he touched her.

"Someone get some fucking _help!_ " Sweet Pea roared. Toni wanted to make a joke about his voice cracking a little at the end there but she was starting to feel very tired.

Jughead was beside them in a flash, his eyes going so wide at the sight before him that they ate up most of his face.

"Get her to lay down to slow the blood flow, and _do not_ touch that knife!" he shouted as he took off toward Pop’s. Sweet Pea ripped off his Serpent jacket, hurriedly balled it up and placed it on the ground behind her. He yanked off his over-shirt, leaving him in just a tank-top in the chilly night air.

"You're gonna be okay, Tiny. Just keep looking at me. Keep those eyes open, okay?" Sweet Pea grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it tightly. She could feel his hand shaking in hers as he gently lowered her onto her back. Toni noticed with some alarm that his eyed were shiny with unshed tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Sweet Pea cry. _When we were seven and he broke his arm falling out of that maple tree, maybe?_ Toni pondered.

Her head settled on top of Sweet Pea’s jacket while he grabbed up his over-shirt in his free hand and placed it over her own that was still resting just below the blade in her abdomen. He pushed down, applying pressure and she gasped harshly, squeezing her eyes shut. "Open those eyes, T. You gotta keep them open, remember? Can you move your hand off your stomach for me?" 

Toni wanted to tell him everything was fine, but it felt like she had a mouth full of coppery syrup. She settled on nodding to show she had heard him, trying to hold her eyes open as she moved her hand out from under the wadded-up shirt. Flexing her fingers to try and regain some feeling in them, Toni could feel the wet blood coating her hand slowly beginning to dry in the cool night air.

God, why was it so damn _cold_? It felt like her entire body was filling with freezing water and all she wanted to do was close her eyes…

A voice that didn’t sound like Sweet Pea’s yelled: "Toni! Open your eyes and look at me!"

She felt a light tapping on her cheek and her eyes fluttered open. _Funny_ , she thought, _I don’t remember closing them…_ Toni managed to fully open her eyes and was greeted by Cheryl's beautiful face just inches from her own. She smiled brightly at the redhead as she felt warm hands cup her cheeks.

"There you are. Keep your eyes open, _please—_ ” Cheryl's voice broke and a tear slid down her cheek. Toni frowned deeply at that; she never, ever wanted to make Cheryl cry.

"Hey don't cry, Bombshell. How could I ever take my eyes off you?" Toni crooned, ignoring that metallic taste in her mouth. 

"Oh, TT," Cheryl breathed. More tears spilled down her cheeks as Sweet Pea abruptly stood up and shouted something that Toni could not quite make out before he slipped from her view. "Stay with me Toni, please don't leave me."

One of Cheryl's hands had left her cheek and was now wiping at the corners of her mouth. Toni couldn’t see it, but the fingertips of the hand Cheryl was using to wipe at her lips were now stained with blood.

Somewhere in the distance, a car roared to life.

"I'm not going anywhere…you’re stuck with me for the long haul…please don't cry," Toni struggled to get the words out. She was so cold, and her eyes felt so heavy. 

"Tiny, I'm going to pick you up, okay?" Sweet Pea—reappearing seemingly from nowhere—bent down, putting one arm around her shoulders and hooking the other under her legs at the knees. As he lifted her, Toni's eyes shot wide open and a scream ripped from her throat.

She had never felt such intense pain in her entire life.

Her head lolled back onto Sweet Pea's shoulder after the pain dulled slightly. All she could see was the night sky, bright with stars. Black dots danced at the edge of her vision as her eyes watered. Her mouth tasted like it was full of copper and suddenly she was struggling to breath. Toni wrenched her head to the side as a rattling cough tore through her, making her entire chest light up with fresh pain. Blood flew from her lips and spattered black asphalt as her coughing intensified. Toni sucked in a deep breath when she was suddenly laid flat on her back onto something soft. Her vision blurred while she fought to gulp down more air. She heard car doors slam followed by the squeal of tires.

Toni saw the night sky again, now moving above her and realized she was in the back seat of a convertible, and that they were probably taking her to the hospital. Gazing up at the stars shinning down on Riverdale, she briefly wondered where Cheryl had gone.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Cheryl's face appeared above her own, brown eyes glistening with tears. She was sitting on her knees beside Toni on the backseat floorboards. Her fiery hair cascaded over one shoulder and her eyes flicked down to Toni's stomach. Toni smirked and began to make a joke about Cheryl checking her out, but it died on her lips when sudden pressure was applied just under her ribs.

" _Fuck!_ " she hissed, gritting her teeth. More water flowed from her eyes and she screwed them shut tightly.

"I'm so sorry, I know it’s painful." Cheryl's voice shook but her hands did not let up the pressure on Toni’s abdomen in the slightest. "Can you please open your eyes for me, TT?"

With a ragged breath, Toni wrenched her eyes open and the smile that graced plump red lips made the effort well more than worth it. She heard Sweet Pea and Jughead yelling about something, but she could not tell what they were saying. She tried to turn her head in the direction of their voices but stilled as a kiss was pressed to her forehead. "Do not move, _ma_ _chérie_. We are almost there, Ipromise." 

Her eyes met Cheryl's once again and she smiled—a true-blue lovestruck smile—unaware her lips were flecked with blood and had taken on a blueish hue. Toni couldn't believe how in love she was with this red-haired girl beside her, and suddenly, she just had to tell her.

“I love you,” she said, her voice barley above a whisper.

“And I love you, Toni. Please stay awake. Please stay with me.” Cheryl’s voice cracked as she wiped at the corners of her mouth with her free hand again, her eyes never leaving Toni’s.

The black dots dancing at edge of her vision had now become looming shadows, taking up more and more of her line of sight with every shallow breath Toni took.

While she was looking up into Cheryl’s warm brown eyes, Toni realized with sudden calming clarity that those eyes might be the last thing she ever saw. As everything went dark, Toni decided she wouldn’t mind if Cheryl was the last thing in the world she would ever see. 


	2. The Longest Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a heads up, this chapter is really dark, but hopefully we’ll get some happier times soon

* * *

Betty pressed a foam cup of steaming coffee into her hands and Cheryl held it. The warmth spread across her palms the same way Toni's blood had, only the coffee did not turn cold seconds later.

“I don't know how you take it, but I grabbed some sugar and creamer packets. If you need more, I can go get them, the coffee station is just right over there. . .”

Cheryl took of a sip of cheap black coffee. It had no taste. She was vaguely aware that her cousin was still talking, but her voice sounded distant, garbled, far-away. Betty was pointing to something now and her gaze instinctively followed. Placed against the wall opposite them was a neat, tidy little plastic table set-up with three neat, tidy little plastic cup-like containers, all labeled, of course: Sugar. Creamer. Stir-Straws. A Mr. Coffee sat on a hot plate next to the tidy trio of plastic, steaming and bubbling.

Toni had a Mr. Coffee.

They cost five dollars per glass pot, which Toni had said was great because her uncle was always getting angry-drunk and breaking theirs. How Toni had laughed that morning, how Toni had made _her_ laugh that morning, her eyes sparkling while she brewed them a fresh pot of coffee, her finding humor in the humorless situation that was living with her uncle. Cheryl remembered everything about that morning.

That had been the first morning they spent together, after their first _night_ spent together.

Cheryl could not remember ever loving someone as much as she had loved Toni right then. She had _thought_ she loved Toni long before that morning, but that morning she had _known_ that she loved her.

Cheryl had known then that she loved Toni but had never said the words.

Neither had Toni.

Except, tonight, Toni had said _“I love you”_ for the very first time. And Cheryl had said it back. Maybe for the last time.

Cheryl drank her coffee, watched the Mr. Coffee bubble and steam, and she wept. The weeping was very calm and completely silent. It and her cup of coffee ended at the same time.

After a while, Veronica sat down beside Betty, offering Cheryl a sympathetic smile. "If you need anything at all, do not hesitate to ask. We're all here for you, Cheryl."

Those same words—or some terribly similar—had been said to her by many different people after many different events in her life as of late. Jason. Her father. Nick St. Clair. The Sisters of Quiet Mercy.

Cheryl wondered if she would ever stop hearing those words said to her. She mumbled her thanks and continued staring blankly out at nothing.

"Cheryl, are you feeling alright? You look ashen." Veronica reached over Betty to touch her arm lightly. 

"Do not worry," she said without hearing herself. She was occupied with looking at nothing and with her own confusion of anticipation and fear. She could hardly stand it—the waiting, the _not knowing_ —any longer. It felt like days, weeks, maybe even a _month_ had gone by. Yes, it _had_ to be a month at least, and that was a conservative estimate because they had been waiting in this stupid hospital waiting room for just over three years. She giggled a little at that thought, the sound shrill and sharp—almost hysterical—even to her own ears, and the clock on the wall mockingly read that it had only been a few hours. 

Only a few hours since her girlfriend had been stabbed and rushed to Riverdale General Hospital.

Only a few hours since a team of doctors had wheeled her away into surgery.

Only a few hours of not knowing if Toni was alive or dead.

Betty snatched a nervous glance at her. "Are _sure_ you're alright, Cheryl?" 

Several sharp, scathing retorts danced on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them like rising bile and simply nodded. Now was not the time to lash out at innocent on-lookers like her cousin—no matter how moronic their insistent and seemingly endless questions might be. Not when the offending party in all this was still free and clear out in the world somewhere.

As if blown in by the whirlwind of her thoughts, a bruised and bloodied boy and his companion stumbled into the lobby of Riverdale General. They were both clad in studded, spiky leather jackets with animal print patches and skulls littering the fabric. Cheryl would have recognized their hideous outfits anywhere.

She watched as the injured Ghoulie all but fell into a chair in the far corner of the waiting room while his friend hurried to the check-in desk. Cheryl looked around the room. Southside Serpents and Riverdale Bulldogs alike were littered about the lobby, all standing or sitting around, talking in low hushed tones, more than a few waiting to have non-life-threatening injuries seen to. It appeared that no one had noticed the two Ghoulies slip in.

No one but her, that was.

She stood slowly and crossed the room toward the coffee station. She tossed her cup into a small wastebasket beside the table and stole a glance back over at her cousin.

Betty and Veronica were still talking quietly together; they probably had not even noticed she'd gotten up. Shifting her gaze back toward the lone Ghoulie, she picked up the Mr. Coffee, holding it by its brown plastic handle, and carefully dumped its bubbling contents into the trashcan. Tiny beads of condensation clung to the thick glass.

Cheryl crossed the waiting room unnoticed, almost like a ghost. She stopped directly in front of the boy, carrying the Mr. Coffee in one hand. He was sitting with his head between his knees. The was a large ugly gash on the back of his head, and blood was dribbling out from his hair and onto his neck. 

“Would you like some coffee?” Cheryl asked.

“No,” the boy said curtly, without looking up.

“Of course you would,” Cheryl said, and swung the heavy glass pot down on his bent head with all the force she could manage.

Surprisingly, the pot hadn't broken. It had however taken a huge, amazing blot of the Ghoulie's blood. He slumped forward then fell silently onto the waiting room floor. A runnel of blood ran across the tiled floor. The gash on his head was much bigger now.

Someone screamed, and the spell was broken.

Cheryl blinked and stepped back from the limp, unconscious boy lying at her feet, her grip on the plastic handle loosening. An arm snaked around her waist and she was whirled around and away.

“Don't say a word, just keep walking,” a gruff voice murmured in her ear. The coffee pot was yanked from her hand as she was half-marched, half-carried forward.

“Someone get a doctor over here!” a man shouted.

“Kid's a Ghoulie, let him bleed out!” another yelled.

After she had crossed the waiting room once more, this time with unknown company, Cheryl was whipped back-round. FP Jones towered over her, blocking her from sight in a dimly lit corner of the large room.

“That was some real stupid shit you just pulled, girl.” FP glowered as he handed the Mr. Coffee to an older Serpent Cheryl did not recognize. The nameless Serpent casually draped his jacket over his arm, covering the glass pot as he made his way leisurely toward the closest glowing green **EXIT** sign.

“Why cover it up for me then?” Cheryl questioned, standing tall and glaring right back at him.

“Because you covered for me once. Now, we're even.” He watched her for a few more seconds, then stepped back and leaned against the wall beside her with a heavy sigh. Cheryl saw the other Ghoulie rush over to the rapidly growing crowd that was surrounding his friend. His eyes widened and he slowly backed up before darting out the door. Three Serpents followed not too far behind.

“You should have said something when you saw those Ghoulies come in,” FP stated, drawing her attention once more.

“I can fight my own battles,” Cheryl snapped. The tiny fresh flecks of blood on her face had almost already dried, beginning to match the maroon droplets of Toni’s from hours before. 

“Obviously,” FP chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “But you're a Serpent now, and we've got your back.”

“ _"No Serpent stands alone,"_ ” Cheryl quoted to him mockingly, crossed her arms over her chest and clutched her elbows tight. Toni’s—and now the Ghoulie’s—blood was, literally as well as figuratively, all over her hands and she could not stand to look at it any longer.

“Something like that yeah,” FP said. “It’ll take some time to get used to—people being there for you and all that—but we’re not going anywhere so better learn quick.”

Cheryl was silent for a while before a thought came to her. “What about the lady who screamed?”

“All she saw was a kid with a head wound pass out and fall on the floor. When people like her see things like that happen, they don’t pay attention to what's going on around them, all they see is the body and the blood. She didn't see anything important. Even if she did, she's not going to say a thing if she knows what’s good for her.”

FP’s tone left no room for argument. Cheryl shrugged a shoulder and looked back out over the sea of people in the waiting room. They reminded her of cows packed in a pen, unknowingly waiting for the slaughterhouse. A chilling thought occurred to her then in her father’s voice— _You are in that pen too, Cheryl_ —and was gone like a wisp of steam. 

Cheryl’s throat suddenly constricted, she felt like she could no longer breathe, and if she stayed in this room one second longer, she might actually suffocate. She pushed herself off the wall and bolted toward the nearest exit.

Someone’s shoulder connected solidly with her own and Cheryl instinctively threw her weight into the movement, shoving the unseen individual out of the way. Distantly, she heard some commotion and angry shouting behind her, but she did not turn back—instead, she picked up her pace.

Cheryl all but kicked the nearest metal exit door open and she stumbled out into the cold night air, gulping down greedy lungfuls as she doubled over, her bloodied hands coming to rest on her knees. She closed her eyes tightly and fought to get her breathing under control. Unnoticed tears began rolling down her cheeks in big clear drops.

After what could have been seconds or hours, she righted herself and opened her eyes. She was standing in an alley, empty save for a few Dumpsters and litter. The moon was high and bright, casting everything in a harsh silvery light. In that cold moonlight, her hands looked as if they were blotted with black ink. She had scoured and scrubbed at her hands with a warm washcloth Betty had brought her forever ago, but she could still see traces of blood in the creases of her skin and under her fingernails. Needing to look at something else— _anything else_ —Cheryl cast her eyes about.

Something glittered in the dim and she focused on it. Near the base of the closest Dumpster were shards of broken glass, some the same sickly shade of black as the blood on her hands.

The remains of the Mr. Coffee pot.

Cheryl slowly approached the bits of glass, prodding carefully at them with the tip of her high-heeled shoe. Bloodied glass slid and crunched nosily over asphalt as she moved her foot back and forth with deliberate slowness. The handle was nowhere in sight. Satisfied, Cheryl stopped her search and stepped away from the Dumpster just as the door banged open.

“Hey, Cheryl!” Veronica offered her a tired smile and stepped toward her. “We’ve been looking all over for you! What are you doing out here?”

“I just needed some fresh air,” Cheryl answered honestly.

Veronica quirked an eyebrow. “Out in a dark alley filled with trash?”

“Better than the lobby filled with the same,” she snapped, suddenly angry. Why was she having to explain her every little action all of a sudden?

Veronica’s expression softened. “We’re just trying to keep everyone close in case there is any news. I’ll leave you be.”

“Veronica, wait.”

The dark-haired girl paused in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder, eyebrows raised, saying nothing.

Cheryl drew a shaky breath. “Any update? Has anyone said anything? Anything at all?”

“Not yet,” Veronica answered gently and walked back over and placed a careful hand on Cheryl’s shoulder. “It’s okay to be scared, Cheryl. You don’t have to put on a brave face. Everyone is here for Toni, but we are also here for you too.”

All at once, everything was _much_ too much. The dam broke and the flood of tears rushed back in. A choked sob escaped Cheryl as hot tears rolled freely down her cheeks.

Veronica wordlessly pulled her into a tight hug. Neither girl spoke. Cheryl sobbed silently while Veronica held her, softly stroking red hair.

After the sobs had lessened, Veronica spoke softly, soothingly, but with conviction: “Toni is an _extremely_ courageous girl. She is part of a big scary biker gang. She gave Reggie Mantle a black eye for sitting on her motorcycle without asking. She can beat Jughead in a milkshake drinking contest. She asked Riverdale High’s resident HBIC to be her girlfriend. I think that last one alone makes her petty damn tough, don’t you agree?”

A watery laugh escaped her as Cheryl pulled back to wipe at her eyes. “I suppose it does,” she agreed, gratefully taking the handkerchief Veronica offered. “I just—

Cheryl’s lower lip began to tremble, and she bit down on it fiercely, tasting blood, blinking rapidly to force the tears back.

Veronica took hold of the red-haired girl’s shoulders and forced her to meet her eyes. “She is going to be perfectly okay, Cheryl.”

Cheryl nodded once sharply—needing to hear those words, needing to believe them.

Veronica linked arms with her, and the pair returned to the lobby. It was significantly less crowded now; many people having left after their minor injuries had been tended to.

It was well past the lobby’s hours of operation but visiting hours apparently did not apply to the Southside Serpents. Several of the gang’s members were mulling about; Cheryl recognized some, others she had never seen before. Many young Serpents Cheryl had seen as passing faces in the halls at school stood around in small groups, letting the older members have the chairs. She saw Byrdie—an older Serpent Toni tended bar with—slumped and dozing in one of these over-stuffed chairs.

Many of the older Serpents came over and offered Cheryl their best wishes and words of comfort; most of these were gruff and short. A man named _Hogeye_ had said: “Toni’ll pull through ‘nd be alright. Those Topazes are tough stock.”

Cheryl had accepted Hogeye’s (and all the other’s) words with a smile and her thanks, hoping beyond hope that there would be a semblance of truth in any of them.

The sight of all these people—here for Toni and here for her—warmed her heart but did not ease it.


End file.
